Battles and War
by Rodent-ME
Summary: Shepard has taken down the Collectors. But what can she do now to help the Galaxy against the Reaper Threat? Dark, mostly. An old comrade serves as the guide. R&R generously, please!
1. Prologue

**A/N: This is my first attempt at a long-winded story, so bear with me and be liberal with Reviews.**

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><p>The orange was already fading away. The tumultous wreckage of the Galaxy's centre, left behind. The <em>Normandy <em>had FTL drives engaged, making it's way through to the Omega-4 relay. A new wreck had been added to the graveyard. Mission accomplished. The Collector threat, The human reaper, all gone in a blinding flash. After all the weeks of careful preparation, it had taken only five hours of intensive fighting.

The sounds of celebration could be dimly heard from the Captain's Quarters. Commander Rosalyn Shepard had not joined them, pleading tiredness and injury, and was lounging in a chair, thinking. There was a lot to think over. It would take a while for them to return to civilized space.

They had won the battle. The mission which was all but suicide for anyone else, pulled off with just one casualty. Zaeed had took a freak bullet between the eyes. There was nothing anyone could do.

_I'll miss the guy..._Shepard thought sombrely. She had lost crew members before. Alenko's face drifted into focus. The man had trusted her, and she had left him to die a fiery death by nuclear explosion. Suddenly Zaeed's face replaced Kaidan's, the gruff man's eyes rolling over in death.

She shook her head. _There will be time for mourning later._ There were other things. That Human Reaper for instance. It would take a while for her to make any sense of _that._

_No doubt our dear Illusive man will be dying to dissect anything we have,_she thought wryly. Then there was Cerberus. The organisation was not exactly inspiring trust. She would have to decide about them, soon, and decisively. All this came with the burden of being the Commander.

Getting up, she rummaged in a small closet, cleverly hidden, and brought forward a bottle of wine. Thinking would be better done over a glass.

Most of the crew had, in the wake of success and one big exploding base behind them, decided to stay on with Shepard. _To the bitter end_, as Jacob had put it.

Thane would leave, of course. He deserved to spend the last of his days with Kolyat. Samara would leave as well, no longer bound by her oath. She had promised to raise the _Reaper _issue among the Asari Matriarchs.

_They have committed the most heinous crime known in the Code, Shepard, _She had said calmly when asked. _Bringing them to justice will be a pleasure._

Reapers.

Shepard knew that their invasion would come, at an indeterminate time in the future. Harbinger all but assured that. It could take them a few weeks, a few years. But The Alliance taught it's Marines one simple thing.

_Expect the worst, hope for the best._

Shepard was certainly expecting the worst, but she had to hope. The problem was, she no longer had a clear direction. Stopping Saren had been straightforward. Elysium had been straightforward. The collectors had been straightforward. The enemy visible, real.

Now...It was hazy.

_If the Reapers invade the next week, there is nothing you can do about it. Lean back, relax. The crew has earned a shore leave.A little R&R at the Citadel won't destroy the galaxy. we have won the battle..._

_But not the war_, Her thoughts ending grimly.

* * *

><p><em>Planet Nyur, Terminus Systems.<em>

The Turian known as Nayar made his way through the jostling crowds of the capital, carrying a suitcase in one clenched talon. The streets of Nyur were dangerous at any given time, the fact that it was a batarian controlled world did little for the rampant lawlessness prevalent throughout the Terminus systems. Nayar knew that very well.

He was a respected banker, a respect gained quickly. He had arrived on the planet six months back, with good credentials, but poor luck. And he struck gold. His small consultancy business was flourishing quickly. Now, however, he felt the stresses of his job, and wanted only to get to his apartment.

Quick steps, and a wary eye saw him get there in one piece. Exchanging a brief friendly word with the receptionist, an Asari, he took the elevator. All part of the routine,it could get deadly boring, if it was not deadly profitable. Everything, from the brisk businessman's outfit, to the gun he kept strapped to his waist, seemed normal. Keeping guns was a normal practice for businessmen in the Terminus, although most couldn't use them for shit.

He was about to enter the room, his target a warm shower and a good meal, when he felt something. _Something._

He flashed his card, and hid most of himself behind the wall, peering in cautiously.

He faced the barrel of a gun.

Instinct took over, he rolled just as a loud explosion filled the void where his head had been. He heard a soft curse, feminine.

_Asari, probably, _He thought, taking out his blaster, and listening for the next move. He didn't have to wait long. Three figures charged out of the room, or tried to. Nayar took the first one in the head, a clean shot, he flopped on the floor, lifeless.

_So, they don't have shields, _He thought distantly, his body already moving. Catching the second figure's arm, he twisted quickly, rewarded by the snap of bone. Without delay, he spun, and landed a powerful turian kick, sending the third figure flying.

It had taken all of three seconds. Nayar took two more to put three shots in three heads. Only now was his breathing slowing. He took a dispassionate look around. His room had been ransacked, and three bodies littered the space. An Asari, a Batarian and a Human.

_Diverse. Little more than thugs though. _He was calm. Too calm.

The door to an adjacent room opened, and a glint of metal caught his eye. It could be anything, but considering the situation... _Armor. Here comes the real deal._

His room was on the third floor, with an window to outside. The quickest way out. He gathered as much momentum as he could, and crashed into the solid glass. It broke, and he fell in a tumble to below. He knew how to execute such a drop, and rolled as soon as feet touched ground. No damage done, and he had escaped his chasers momentarily. Momentarily being the key word. He ran, as fast as he could. Rounding the corner, he heard a clatter, and knew that the chase was on.

He ran in the narrow streets, weaving in and out, occassionally firing a blaster shot behind him, only his ears serving as any guide. His pursuers were dogged, following him relentlessly, spraying fire to snag a hit on him. Several times they hit civilians. Nayar couldn't care. He couldn't help them if he was dead.

He ran to a warehouse he knew well, it was a defensible position. In a defensible position, he could take them. If the three he had killed had been any indication, they weren't particularly dangerous. He could take them. He had to.

Luckily for him he was unburdened, while his pursuers, or at least some of them, had armor. He could outrun them, if not outdistance them.

The warehouse loomed ahead. Nayar jabbed numbers on his omni-tool furiously, and a side-door opened. He ran inside. The warehouse was ordinary. Full of crates and other oddities. Perfect.

He found a good spot, and waited.

The main doors slid open.

His first shot found a head, human. He didn't crumple though, a flash of blue informing Nayar of the worst. Shields. His second shot created an explosion of gore, as the human's head...vaporised.

His pursuers were spreading out, taking positions. He noted two Krogan, in lumbering battle armor. He snarled mentally. This was going to be tough.

He lay down accurate blaster fire. The enemy looked content to just hold defensive positions though, advancing slowly, carefully. Not carefully enough. Two more heads exploded, Turian.

_Mercs are usually more aggressive. Why are they slow? _He thought, leaning behind a crate to let his gun cool. he didn't have many spare canisters, and his gun overheating would be fatal. A stray shot had took his right arm. Nothing medigel couldn't fix, but it hurt.

_Do they have more? They look like they are intent on keeping me in a corner. Reinforcements? Damn big operation, Have I been compromised?_

He shuddered slightly. That would be fatal. He doubted it. Still, he had a good defensive position, and he could hold out...

Huge force impacted him from the side. He felt himself fly, quickly, far too quickly. He impacted against the warehouse wall with a sickening thud. Pain clouded his vision, but still, he tried to limp behind a crate, before another jolt sent him back into the wall, harder than the first.

He could not lose consciousness. Not now. Looking up, he saw his doom. A figure covered in blue.

_Biotics. Shit._

The figure advanced, knowing that it had Nayar caught. Gunfire had stopped. As it inched closer, Nayar noted that the figure wore black armor, covering it's entire body, and sexless. At least, he saw no features associated with a male or female.

Blue covered him, and forced him roughly to the wall, pinning him there. The figure spoke.

_You tried well. but if our enemies are this weak, then I do not see what we have to fear._The voice, it was far too monotone for a living being. A synthetic voice then.

Nayar knew that his time had ended. He felt no sadness though, he was doing his duty, and he was going to die doing it. He would not die a coward. He spat.

Gunfire lit up the warehouse. It went on for a long five minutes, before what was left of a Turian called Nayar slithered down.

The figure in black turned, and it and the mercs were gone as quickly as they came.


	2. The Mystery

The Normandy glided through the light gases of the Widow Nebula. Ahead of them was The Citadel, the largest space station in The Galaxy. Even from a distance, it's sheer size was daunting. Ex-Alliance Lieutenant Jeff Moreau, better known as 'Joker' fiddled with the controls with an ease brought through training and skill.

Not that it required much skill, at this time. The Citadel was the safest region in the Galaxy, there were no threats here.

_So we thought when Uncle Sovereign bust in through the backdoor with pet Geth, _He thought. It never hurt to be vigilant, especially because a _certain lady _on board the ship had the talisman of attracting trouble, or something.

Still, his aide would be able to detect anything much faster than he could. EDI's 'avatar' was not visible at the moment, but he knew she was watching. At first he had resented this Intruder taking over his 'domain', but over the course of the collector mission he'd developed a cordial working relationship with the Artificial Intelligence. And that'd let to him becoming the butt of many 'AI love story' jokes.

Joker shook his head in amusement. He was seldom on the recieving end of a joke.

The _SR-2_ was entering Traffic Jurisdictions Area of The Citadel. Joker punched in a few buttons and transmitted a hail, standard procedure.

_Citadel Control, this is The Normandy, requesting permission for a docking berth._

it took a few moments, and with a clicking noise, a response came. 

_Cleared, Normandy, Proceed to Civilian Docking Cradle 451._

He left the last procedures for the dock to EDI. He had never been on the Citadel himself, brittle bones were not exactly fun to roam around with. Besides, he felt at home on the frigate.

But now, they'd come for a Shore Leave, and he had been invited to go out and 'enjoy himself'. By the CO herself. Shepard had informed him with a smile that no was not an option.

Joker noted that the Commander looked strained, a direct contrast to the moods of everyone else on the ship.

_I bet The Illusive Man didn't come in a Santa outfit and give her presents either, _He mused. He'd called almost as soon as he could, and Shepard was not too pleased by the outcome of _that _meeting.

Hopefully the shore leave would help. Now Joker worried about the difficult mission in front of him, and him alone.

Which was to get his crutches, and survive the celebrations without a bone out of place.

***

Shepard looked at her wardrobe with a slight frown on her face.

_I must be the only woman who has more armor weaves hanging in her wardrobe than actual clothes,_ She thought. It was an amusing thought. But then, she'd hardly had a chance, or the need.

All she saw was a couple of T-shirts and jeans. Twenty-first century fashion still worked, although many had switched over to Asari dresses. One would expect the Asari to have good taste in clothing.

_Thoroughly impractical in a fight though,_ She thought, shaking her head. _I need to get out of combat mode and just relax,_ She told herself.

She pulled out a white T-shirt and blue jeans, dressed, and examined the result in a mirror.

Her black hair was a little longer than usual, reaching her shoulders, covering a sharp-featured face. Her garments still fit quite snugly. Cerberus had done a good job.

_Ready to go. Now, Relax, enjoy yourself, and have fun,_ She instructed her mind. Almost as an afterthought, she snapped a Carnifex Handgun on to her waist.

_You never know..._

***

The crew deck was, for the most part, empty. Most of the Normandy's crew had left as soon as the frigate docked, to celebrate rather noisily and without their CO making them uncomfortable... 

Shepard knew her team would wait for her though. She was greeted by a smiling Jacob as soon as the lift opened.

"Nice to have you Commander, let's spill drinks on the Citadel as planned" he said.

"That's the plan, Jacob. Everyone else here?" She replied.

"In a moment Commander."

She didn't have to wait long. One by one her team came, most of them dressed in normal, civilian outfits. She'd insisted on that, no armor this time.

She smiled as she saw Garrus, not wearing his armor for once, in a normal Turian Outfit.

"All Assembled?" She asked.

"Hell yeah!" shouted a strong voice. Grunt was excited. Apparently Krogan placed a lot of value on celebrating their victories. Besides, He wanted Ryncol. Lot's of it.

Shepard looked around. Only Legion and Jack were missing. Legion saw no point in it. Geth didn't place much stock in entertainment, while Jack was her anti-social self, as usual.

"Hold on, where's Joker?" She asked.

"Coming..." said a voice as Joker appeared around a corner, limping his way to the small group.

"Behold the sexiest man in The Galaxy", he said, spreading his arms out.

"Riiiiiiiight..." said several female voices.

Joker put his hands on his heart, in a mock gesture of hurt.

"Oh how my feelings are torn..."

Shepard shook her head, smiling. Joker would never change.

"Let's go and give the Citadel something to think about then!" She shouted, and off they went, to celebrate.

***

Darkstar lounge was merry tonight. A very queer group had entered, and things had changed for the better.

Shepard leaned back in a chair, listening in as Joker was telling a joke to Dr. Chakwas, who was merrily drunk on Serrice Brandy.

They had been in here for a while, dancing, drinking, making merry. Mordin got drunk enough to perform several songs from _Gilbert and Sullivan,_ leading to loud cheers.

A Krogan lay on the floor. Grunt had gotten too liberal with the Ryncol.

It was a good night. Tommorow they would be back to throwing their lives in hell for the good of the galaxy, but tonight it was just fun. The dance floor was occupied. Shepard watched as Miranda glided through with Jacob. Jacob was having trouble keeping up, for sure.

"Shepard, get over here and dance, it's fun!" shouted a voice.

"Maybe later" she shouted back. She would not throw all caution to the wind, could not. Everyone else was either drunk or oblivious. She was neither.

An Asari, in one of those skimpy outfits, walked over to Shepard, hips moving gracefully. Bending a little to expose more cleavage, she asked, "Need something, doll?"

"Not now", replied Shepard neutrally.

The Asari put on an expression of hurt. "You look pretty well off, so if you need my...services at a later time, here's what you need..." she put something in front of Shepard, and walked away rather hurriedly.

Shepard looked at the thing. _White, a little crumpled, what is it...?_ She smoothened out the object, then it hit her.

Paper.

Nobody used Paper these days. Noone. Curiousity piqued, she examined it carefully, and saw a message on the other side, written in a graceful hand.

_Commander Rosalyn Shepard,_

_Your return to The Citadel was duly noted by my friends. I congratulate you on the success of...whatever it is that you have been doing._

_The war against the Reapers is still to be dealt with. In this, you shall need all the allies you can muster. I can provide assistance. Unconditional._

_I am sure you have questions, which I will only be able to answer when we are talking, face to face._

_With Regards,  
>The Krogan.<em>

_P.S- Divide the truth by two and multiply it by the number of the devil, and give it some pie._

Shepard frowned. This message was strange. Very strange. She was too cynical to assume that the message was necessarily truthful, but curiousity nagged her mind. She put it in her pocket, mind now alert.

_If it's a friend, good. If it's an enemy, then it's working for the Reapers. Either way, it'll have to be dealt with._

It felt good, in an odd way. There was direction again, and she saw clearly the path ahead.

She made a note to call a briefing tommorow.

__


	3. The Waiting

"Any idea what this is about?" Shepard asked, holding a piece of paper in her hand.

She had called a briefing, 06.00 Hours sharp. Truthfully, the matter could have waited, but she could not. There might be no time left later.

Miranda Lawson took the paper from Shepard's hand, and looked it over. Her genetically perfect face frowned as she went over the contents.

"This makes little sense to me apart from the obvious, Shepard", She said, still frowning. Miranda did not like things she could not understand or figure out.

"Doesn't look like any cipher I remember, the lines at the bottom have to be a code to cracking something, but it doesn't fit the letter surely. Maybe it is something we don't have yet. And The Krogan looks like a honorific."

Garrus Vakarian had been leaning on a wall, listening to the conversation. At the mention of "The Krogan", he stood bolt upright from his slouching position. Rushing over, he nearly snatched the paper away from Miranda and read it, with an interested expression.

"Remembered somethnig, Garrus?" Shepard inquired.

Garrus smiled, before answering.

"Indeed. I heard of The Krogan during my time on Omega. Seems to lead a merc outfit. From what I've heard, he's...odd."

"Whole story, Garrus. Like you use Heat sinks" Shepard said, with a smile.

Garrus coughed discreetly, to hide the Turian equivalent of a ...blush? He started speaking hurriedly.

"He'll refuse missions that pay in the hundreds of thousands of credits, and he'll take missions with paltry pay. Nobody seems to know what he's getting at, but when he takes a job, he get the job done. Did a bit of cleaning ops for Aria five years ago when the Vorcha rose in rebellion.  
>And...that's all I know."<p>

"So this...odd merc, wants to help us?" Shepard asked.

Garrus shrugged. "Hard to say. He could be just trying to snare you for some plan of his own, nobody knows what his agenda is. He's got a strong reputation though. On Omega, that's well earned."

Miranda interjected heatedly.

"We'll be going to take the help of _mercs _now?" She said. "Of dubious loyalties and hidden agendas? That'd be stupid, Shepard."

Shepard frowned. Miranda would never get past her Cerberus training and her suspicion.

"We've done so in the past. We could do it again. Only thing we need to do is find him. Any ideas?"

Garrus was the first to respond. "We could try asking Aria. He did do a bit of cleanup for her after all, and she might know something."

Miranda only nodded.

"That's settled then, get ready. We'll be visiting the pisshole again" Shepard said, a clear dismissal.

* * *

><p>"Ah, Shepard. What brings you to Omega this time?" Aria asked, crossing her legs in her usual cocky pose. She gave off the appearance of cool arrogance, a woman who knew her power.<p>

Shepard took the empty seat along with Garrus and Tali. "Business again, I'm afraid" she started.

Aria raised an eyebrow. "What is it then?"

It was Garrus who asked the question. "You've probably heard of The Krogan, heads some sort of merc group..."

Aria shook her head. "What would you want with him? He's not visited Omega in five years now."

"Any information you have on him would be a favor, Aria", Shepard said.

"I don't like doing favors, Shepard. For you however, I'll make a small exception. A Queen must be generous at times, yes?"

She stood and folded her hands behind her back, watching the scenes of Afterlife.

"Five years ago, I put out a contract to get rid of this group, led by some human called Joseph Green, who was brutalizing and exploiting Lower Omega, and bringing direct opposition against my reign of the place. They were quite brutal in their tactics. But putting my men in direct opposition would start a turf war I didn't want to see, so I called in mercs. The Krogan responded."

"What then?" Shepard asked.

"They did one of the cleanest jobs I have ever seen. He brought in five with him, and within a week, Joseph Green was dead, and his lackeys dispersed. He took the payment and disappeared."

"Do you know where he is?"

Aria sighed. "We have had no contact since. I've tried to call on their services many times since then, they never responded. And the address The Krogan gave me was useless."

"Address?" Shepard asked. "What address?"

"He gave me some sort of visiting card with some coordinates. Only thing is, the coordinates point at the Galactic core."

"Can I have the card?"

"Sure, useless to me anyways." Aria signalled a Batarian to get that done, and soon Shepard was turning over a holo-card in her hands.

"I heard you were done with your mission, Shepard. Why don't you take a break, take a warm boy to keep you cozy?"

"The job isn't done yet, Aria" Shepard said before walking away. 

* * *

><p>"Sure, A guy with an address in the Galactic core...makes as much sense as anything does with you around, Shepard", Garrus quipped.<p>

"EDI, any results on your analysis?" Shepard asked. 

"Negative, commander. No hidden codes, re-arranging gave no results. Unless you have further data to provide, I can give you no results."

"Hmm...only this." Shepard took out that little paper from her pocket, the letter, and considered it. Suddenly it struck her.

"EDI...divide the vectors in that card by two, multiply them all by 666, and add pi to them. See what comes up."

EDI instantly had a result. "Coordinate point to the outskirts of the Hawking Eta Cluster, in a sparse region of space away from civilized space. There are three stars in the vicinity, but two are brown dwarfs, so that leaves only one candidate."

Shepard smiled. "Garrus, tell the team we'll be going on a ground op shortly. Joker! Set course for the new coordinates!"

"Aye Aye, Commander." 


End file.
